


Whatever It Takes

by CXMP_14



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Ashes Scene in Avengers: Infinity War Part 1, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, First time writing angst, Fusion Of Book & Show Canon, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), So Bear With me, Temporary Character Death, updates are as erratic as a.z. fell & co.’s opening hours
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2020-04-11 17:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19114576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CXMP_14/pseuds/CXMP_14
Summary: The angel has a point there. It is one of the things they both liked about humans. Their free will matched with their imagination and electricity. It can be a bugger sometimes, though it does make staying on Earth a lot more enjoyable than staying in Heaven or Hell. But with what they’ve accomplished these days, Crowley has a gut feeling that sooner or later, something incredibly bad will happen that no demon could have dreamed or even be capable of doing. Something that will affect the very cosmic balance and throw existence itself in disarray.He never thought how soon that would be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I don’t know why I wrote this. Also, this is my first ever Good Omens fanfic and also my first time writing angst so just a bit of a warning. 
> 
> Anyway, I do not own Good Omens or Marvel. This fic was just for fun and the feels.

White clouds rolled on through the blue sky over a busy day in London, where countless people hurried on with their lives. A certain black Bentley hurtled through the streets, passing the speed limit. It rounded corners and avoided pedestrians and other vehicles, faster than what should be possible during rush hour. Of course, there never were any accidents as people wouldn’t think a car will drive by at that speed. Reality was also constantly being shifted around to accommodate the vehicle as it passed through and everyone else were all too caught up with their own daily problems to notice.

Eventually, it parked in a spot in front of an antique bookshop, where just a moment ago, there were no-parking lines which mysteriously disappeared once the Bentley pulled in. “I’m telling you, angel. I have no idea where he went. My side has nothing to do with it.” A figure leaped out of the driver’s side, who was none other than Crowley. “Well certainly, my people have no purpose of taking him away. And even if they did, they wouldn’t be as…dramatic,” said Aziraphale as he got out of the passenger’s side, holding some keys.

As he inserted one of the keys in the shop door, Crowley snorted. “Yeah, sure. Appearing in your true form that has multiple faces and a thousand eyes, saying ‘Do not be afraid’ in a voice that shatters humans’ ear drums, is definitely not dramatic.” Aziraphale shot him a look and the demon only shrugged. “Look, whatever took Stark must’ve been aliens or whatever the heaven the Avengers are dealing with right now.” They both may be supernatural entities, but they’re just in the dark as everyone else in the public whenever superhero shenanigans ensue.

Neither of them knew whose side started this whole mess, in the first place. But one thing is for sure, it created new opportunities to spread infernal taint and heavenly grace. Especially after the Sokovia Accords was signed. Despite all that, Aziraphale and Crowley prefer to stay in the background where things are less complicated. It’s not always as exciting as it seemed at first to be involved with these heroes, somehow. Crowley was once a less valued member of HYDRA, but he still does not want to delve into those days (particularly, the ones involving enhanced assassins). Aziraphale was there in the aftermath of the Battle of Sokovia, helping the survivors. He wouldn’t admit how much it crushed him to see and feel the unbearable anguish of the people over their lost homes and dead loved ones (the last time he has witnessed such grief, was back in World War II).

The angel and the demon were cooped up in the bookshop’s backroom. They ordered some Chinese take-out as they talked about this and that. “Fried is better than steamed, angel. Take it from me,” said Crowley with a mouthful of fried rice. He was laying on the sofa with his legs propped over one arm of the sofa and his back leaning against Aziraphale who was seated on one side. He was eating some fried rice in a paper box with his wooden chopsticks while the angel helped himself with some steamed shark’s fin. “Whatever you say, my dear. And do please chew your food properly,” reprimanded Aziraphale but he couldn’t hide the fondness in his voice as he said that and his soft smile.

They ate in silence for a while before Crowley spoke up, “Angel, do you ever wonder about what the world has come to, these days?” Aziraphale gently dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Whatever do you mean?” Crowley sat up straighter. “I mean, ever since the Iron Man existed all those years ago, it’s like the world has gotten even stranger than we could ever imagine. Super soldiers, killer robots, giant green rampaging monsters. And don’t get me started on Thor.” Both of them were there in Texas as observers on behalf of Heaven and Hell, to know more about the mysterious hammer that was stuck in the dirt. When they found out about people known as Asgardians who reside beyond Earth, they had to reevaluate everything they thought they knew about the universe over a few bottles of wine back in London.

It’s true that they helped in building a few stars and planets in the Beginning, but the universe is _huge._ Aziraphale and Crowley knew that, but the possibility of more life created on celestial bodies they weren’t assigned to, never really crossed their minds. They were all exhausted and there wasn’t much time for angels to talk about what they did, when Earth was made and The Fall happened. Also, the both of them wondered, if there was life among the stars, why play the whole cosmic game of chess here, with the humans? Why waste so much effort on a single planet? In the end, they just pinned it down as being all part of the Ineffable Plan and/or God has favoritism and loves humans above other species.

Now, these otherworldly beings are getting involved with the affairs of man. Or, Crowley suspects, man getting involved with the affairs of otherworldly beings. “These humans are becoming more...complicated that it’s getting harder to keep up, “ said Crowley as took a sip of some wine. “Well, one can argue that humans have always been complicated from the start.” Aziraphale poured himself a glass of wine. “Yeah but, nowadays, when you think you’ve got everything sorted, unexpected things blow it all up in your face. It’s like watching a formula race. You’re on the edge of your seat, hoping that a particular racer you like will cross the finish line first. At least, you know that there’s a chance that racer won’t win or some cars will have technical difficulties. But instead of either of those things happening, a man comes out on the race track and trashes the place with powerful whips that destroys cars.”

Aziraphale hummed as he contemplated the demon’s words. “But that is the most interesting part of it all, don’t you think? Not knowing what these clever humans will do next. It has always been like that in the past. A human who has done the most terrible things imaginable, that you’re sure they would be damned for all eternity. Only for that same individual to have a complete change of heart, sometimes when you’d least expect it. Likewise, for one who has shown more grace than any angel I’ve known. Only in the other direction,” he explained as took a sip from his glass of wine. “Yeah, I suppose.” Crowley downed the rest of his drink. 

The angel has a point there. It is one of the things they both liked about humans. Their free will matched with their imagination and electricity. It can be a bugger sometimes, though it does make staying on Earth a lot more enjoyable than staying in Heaven or Hell. But with what they’ve accomplished these days, Crowley has a gut feeling that sooner or later, something incredibly bad will happen that no demon could have dreamed or even be capable of doing. Something that will affect the very cosmic balance and throw existence itself in disarray.

He never thought how soon that would be.

There was the sound of a bell clinging as the bookshop’s door opened and there were muffled voices of no doubt, customers. Aziraphale let out an exasperated sigh as he put his wine on the table. “Excuse me, dear.” He got up from the sofa and out of the backroom. Crowley put his glass beside Aziraphale’s and brought out his phone from his pocket. Usually, when he goes on social media, it’s to troll and start full blown, unnecessary arguments. But right now, he’s on the internet out of genuine curiosity about Tony Stark’s disappearance. He scrolled down, seeing various pictures and videos of what looked like a gigantic donut-shaped spaceship in the sky, somewhere over New York.

The ship caused strong winds, blowing dust and debris everywhere. There were also two aliens. One was gray and thin, who’s face is flat with no nose. Crowley thought vaguely that he looked like Squidward or Voldemort. He also possessed some telekinetic abilities. His companion was a large, cave troll-like creature with armor and wielded a huge axe. Iron Man fought them alongside two men who seem to master some form of sorcery and a figure who swinged from building to building, who is no doubt that local vigilante, Spider-Man. The demon was so invested in the many stories and articles about it that he paid no notice to how the muffled voices outside the backroom, raised in volume, almost like screaming.

He scrolled further down and found a new headline, which he didn’t get to read clearly (but thought he saw the word ‘dust’ somewhere in it) when Aziraphale shouted “Crowley-!” before he was abruptly cut off. Then there was silence. “Angel?” Crowley called out. After knowing his friend (lover?) for six thousand years, he can tell from his tone that he was scared. The demon carefully opened the door. “Angel?” he called out again. He walked over to the front of the counter where sunlight shined like a spotlight through a window on the upper level. There was a large pile of dust on the floor that Crowley was sure wasn’t there when he and Aziraphale came in. “Aziraphale!” he shouted, only to hear his own voice echoing throughout the bookshop.

He tried to ignore the growing panic he’s feeling as he knelt down and rubbed his finger against the dust. He tried to sense the angel’s presence anywhere in the bookshop but he couldn’t find him. As if he just suddenly vanished. His panic seemed to increase, that he took a deep breath (even though he shouldn’t have to). _’Calm down. He probably just went back to Heaven. Maybe, it was an emergency. Maybe, they needed him for something...’_ he tried to reassure himself. Something crashed outside and there was a scream. Crowley ran out of the bookshop, only to see chaos.

The people screamed as they ran away in no particular direction. Vehicles swerved out of the way of other vehicles that ended up crashing (Crowley willed his Bentley to remain unharmed). At one point, there was a helicopter that fell onto a nearby building in an explosion of fire and debris. Demons by nature, should love to see such chaos but Crowley at that moment, was feeling lost, confused, and scared like everyone else. Especially after he saw the source of all the fear, people are crumbling into dust. It was happening at random. Men, women, and children. It didn’t matter if they were walking, running, or driving. And it was instantaneous. No one knew if they were next until it happened.

Crowley was about to let the panic grip him and run to where everyone else was going until his Bentley’s radio buzzed to life. He expected the voice to shout at him this time, to be Hastur or Beelzebub. He didn’t expect to hear the voice of Satan himself.

_CROWLEY! YOU MUST COME DOWN HERE, AT ONCE_

The demon gulped. “M-My lord, I’m afraid I’m a bit tied at the moment-“

_**NOW!** _

Crowley jumped and quickly got in his car. “O-On my way now, lord.” He speeded through the streets, ignoring how his hands were pale and trembling as he turned the wheel. It felt like a video game as his Bentley drove 120 mph to get to Hell’s head office as fast as possible, and at the same time, make it through the carnage and destruction going on all across London, without a scratch. What the heaven is happening? It was the only question that played in his mind. Do Heaven or Hell (or both) have anything to do with this? Is that why he’s being called in? He turned the wheel, trying to avoid a pedestrian that suddenly ran across the street but then she turned to dust, which flew over the Bentley’s windshield and got carried away by the wind. Crowley swallowed down a lump in his throat and continued his driving.

But what about Aziraphale? His thoughts drifted back to him. He refused to believe that he faced the same fate as everyone else. He’s an angel. That has to count for something, right? Crowley finally arrived at the tall skyscraper and practically ran down the escalator. When the door opened, Hell was also in chaos, minus the cars and explosions. By definition, Hell is supposed to be chaotic but not like this. All the demons rushed around frantically in a panic, not knowing what to do. For the first time in six thousand years, no one so much as glanced at Crowley oddly. At the clothes that he’s wearing, his sunglasses, or his mere presence there.

He slithered through the crowd, bumping once or twice into someone. He tried asking what is even happening but no one answered. He also noticed how some of the demons he knew, were not there (he’s figured out why, seeing all the piles of dust). Eventually, on a raised platform where there is a throne where Beelzebub used to sit, he saw Satan, who yelled in a voice that usually held so much menace and timbre that made fellow demons tremble in fear. “ **ENOUGH!** ” Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing and all attention were on the King of Hell. 

He slowly walked into the crowd and everyone quickly got out of the way, like a boat in a river. They, including Crowley, all bowed their heads as his fiery gaze fell on them. “Are you the wiles of Pure Evil, who’s purpose is to lead mortals into ruin and misery? Who fought in the glorious revolution because you dared to question Her? OR ARE YOU A BUNCH OF COWARDS WHO CRY LIKE THE LOST SOULS?!” All the demons collectively took a step back and hid their whimper. Satan looked down on each and every one of them in judgement. “What had just occurred today was...unexpected. You all may be thinking it’s a move from the opposition. But,” he walked back up to the throne. “After a word with the Metatron himself and careful confirmation, what had happened here, has also happened Up There.” 

There were murmurs among the crowd. “Not only that. But it has happened on Earth, as well.” The murmurs seemed to increase in volume. “At the moment, no one knows how, why, and who did it. How many there were, where they have vanished to, or if they’re truly dead. But in the meantime, they might as well be.” What? Crowley felt like a bucket of cold water washed over him. Dead? The noises all around him faded away. His heart felt like it was pierced by something more painful than a sword or a bullet. No. He stumbled his way out of Hell and out on the streets of London.

 _’No, no, no, no, no…’_ Thunder rumbled as the sky darkened. _’This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.’_ Crowley’s legs gave out and he fell to his knees on the pavement. _’This has to be some twisted nightmare, right? I’m going to wake up and find Aziraphale perfectly alright in his bookshop, right...now.’_ A few moments have passed and nothing happened. He tried pinching himself again and again, but to no use. He’s not dreaming. This is real. After a beat, he let out all his anger, denial, sadness, grief, and pain in one agonizing scream that echoed throughout the city block. He started sobbing violently. His tears mingled with the rain that he didn’t bother to shield himself from. 

He didn’t care that he looked like a pathetic human right now. He just lost Aziraphale again. He lost his best friend. His _only_ friend for six millennium who truly cared for him. Who never looked at him in disgust because he was a demon. Who liked him just the way he is. Who’s smile and exasperated but fond voice whenever he does something mischievous, always brought sunshine in his life. Who stood by him when it was the End of the World and they didn’t think they were going to survive. The only one who understood his love for this stupid, wonderful Earth and its stupid, wonderful humans. And now he’s gone.

His angel is gone and he’s all alone now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS! I gift you P A I N
> 
> sorry it took a bit long, I got into a bit of a writer’s block
> 
> **WARNING: contains vomiting (just a few sentences but it’s there so tread carefully)**
> 
> Again, I don’t own Good Omens or Marvel.

Crowley didn’t know how long he sat there on the wet pavement. The rain has long stopped, leaving puddles and the moist air. Sunlight peeked through the clouds but everything was still gloomy. The demon sat there, staring into space and feeling as if all his energy was drained from his body. He never felt this hollow and empty since the moment he walked out of Aziraphale’s bookshop that was aflame, thinking he was dead. Only this time, it might be true.

Eventually, he stood up from the ground but even that seem to take some effort. He got in his Bentley, not bothering to dry his soaked clothes and damp hair. Unlike before, he drove at a much slower speed as if it were a funeral. Crowley felt more tired than he’s ever been in his life. All he wanted to do was lay down and take another century-long nap (only, he doesn’t plan on waking up anytime soon). Even at the speed he’s going, the world around him felt like a blur. He’s not even paying attention to his driving and more of letting the car drive itself with his hands on the steering wheel as Queen’s “Save Me” played softly on the radio.

_”Save me, save me, save ME! I’m naked and I’m far from home…”_

There was a heavy weight in his chest that he didn’t have the strength to carry. Or the strength to do anything else anymore. For a moment, he entertained the possibility that he might get in trouble with his superiors (whoever’s left of them anyway) because they needed him back Down There. But then he didn’t care. It’s not like he has anything left to lose. After what felt like years, the Bentley stopped in front of Crowley’s flat. The demon dragged himself up the stairs and entered. All the beautiful potted plants that took up most of the space in his living room, sprung up in attention and quivered in fear. Crowley didn’t spare them a glance. He stood there for a few seconds before it seemed that he made up his mind on something.

He went to the kitchen and brought out all the wine, the ale, all the beverages he has that is at least remotely alcoholic. He didn’t bother with a glass and just drank straight from the bottle. For the rest of the day, he was cooped up in the kitchen, drunk and rambling to himself. Hours after sundown, his head was swimming and his vision blurred that he couldn’t tell which bottle he’s drinking from. His legs started to feel like jelly so he leaned his back against the fridge. 

“So is this Your Plan?” he tilted his head up at the ceiling. “Is this all part of Your Great Ineffable Plan?” the demon gave a humourless laugh. The corners of his yellow serpentine eyes shone with unshed tears, behind his dark sunglasses. He took another swig of his drink. Crowley drank and drank, the warm liquid cascading down his throat. Tingles ran all over his body, his head was buzzing and it was getting harder and harder to think. He was becoming more out of touch with reality that he’s not even aware of what his mouth is blabbering about or what his body is doing. But he didn’t want to stop. He wanted to drown in these sensations ‘til he discorporates. He wanted to break his mind ‘til he starts hallucinating Aziraphale. He wanted to feel the pain in his body over the pain in his grieving heart.

Crowley didn’t know when he blacked out. But when the afternoon sun shone on his face from the kitchen window, he groggily woke up with the worst pounding hangover he has ever felt in centuries (ever since the Spanish Inquisition). The demon was sitting on the floor with his back against the fridge and his sunglasses were close to slipping off his nose. He stood up but immediately fell forward against the counter, the action causing his sunglasses to drop to the floor with a resounding clack.

The room kept spinning around him. He was aching all over and whenever he tried to push himself off the counter, a wave of nausea would hit him. Then all of a sudden, he vomited. The contents of his stomach went all over the counter. A few minutes went on of Crowley’s horrible retching, echoing throughout the empty flat as his gut twisted and wrenched. When it finally stopped, his throat felt dry and raspy. He inhaled and exhaled slowly through his nose as his hands trembled. He mentally cursed Above and Below. Through the haze of his mind, he tried to regain some focus. After an hour of fighting through his dizziness, pain, and overwhelming misery, he finally miracled himself free from his hangover.

He leaned against the doorway, taking in the mess he made of the kitchen. Empty bottles and cans littered the floor, along with some glass shards from shattered bottles that he doesn’t remember breaking. The horrible smell of his own vomit could rival that of the smell down in Hell’s departments. He can already feel the bile rising in his throat that he had to miracle it all away. The demon stood there for a while longer before deciding to go down and hunt for more alcohol. When he passed through the living room, his huge plasma TV turned on by itself. All it showed was the white grainy static and there was an infernal disembodied voice coming from it.

_CROWLEY!_

“Ngk,” he replied.

_WHERE THE HEAVEN HAVE YOU BEEN?! OUR NUMBERS HAVE DWINDLED AND YOU HAD THE DECENCY TO SLIP AWAY FROM US?! DO NOT THINK THAT AFTER SURVIVING YOUR TRIAL, YOU WOULD’VE BEEN LEFT ALONE THAT EASILY. COME DOWN HERE AT ONCE OR THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES_

The TV switched off. Crowley wanted to ignore their orders and get wasted in a pub that’s hopefully still open after…after what happened. But then something clicked in him. Through the raging sea of despair and grief that has taken over his mind, a new thought surfaced. A tiny spark of hope that made him feel slightly lighter. His posture straightened and he clenched his fists. Hell is most likely trying to pick up the pieces, find out exactly how many demons are gone, and organize whatever resources they have left. Then maybe, just maybe, Crowley could find a clue on what (or who) caused all this. He snapped his fingers and a pair of sunglasses materialized in his hand. He put them on and miracled himself to look more presentable. Crowley sauntered over to the door and out of his flat.

When he arrived in Hell, demons still milled about with hunched backs and walking at a slow pace like it was a procession. Only, it was definitely less crowded than usual (which Crowley was slightly grateful for). He was immediately greeted by Dagon, who is trying her best to appear perfectly calm and not stressed as fuck. Turns out, she was placed temporarily in charge of Hell since Beelzebub was one of the demons who got “dusted away” (along with Hastur, Crowley later learned). He was lead to a dark room which had only one light bulb, hanging from the ceiling and was flickering. It smelled like something worse than rotting flesh and water was dripping from a pipe in the ceiling. There was a long table filled with nothing but tall stacks and stacks of paper.

He was ordered to sort out all the files of every human on Earth that was a potential asset to Hell, but vanished. From members of bizarre cults, to corrupt politicians and terrorists, to regular asshole citizens. Crowley wanted to groan. This is going to be incredibly tedious. But he shook his head, dispelling such thoughts. He needs to work with whatever he's got if he were to ever find any clues that would help him. 

_'For Aziraphale.'_ The demon sat down with a sigh but with enough determination to reach up and take the first file from the stack. Minutes stretched into hours and hours stretched into days. Not in the way humans perceive time if they were stuck doing a monotonous task that their minds are spiraling into boredom. But Crowley has literally spent days sitting on that stiff, creaking, wooden chair flipping through file after file, that were made on brittle parchment paper. “They could’ve at least used some A4 paper. It’s the 21st century for Go- Sa- Someone’s sake,” he muttered to himself in frustration. But really there is nothing he can do about it anymore. When humans developed the first high-speed printer, Crowley sent a bundle down to Hell in hopes that they would finally learn to adapt to new ways by working through technology. But years have passed, and their mindset is still stuck in the fourteenth century.

He took another file and opened it. What he saw made him freeze in shock. His mouth hung open and he removed his sunglasses as he read through it again and again, not wanting to believe what he was reading. He felt his heart sink in his chest. _’No…’_ Crowley stared at the picture in the upper right corner and the big red stamp which said “vanished.” 

It was Adam Young.

Even the Antichrist wasn’t spared. After the feeling of grief settled in, the demon also started feeling a sense of dread that made his stomach twist. What kind of force in this universe is powerful enough to erase the Son of Satan himself from existence? Crowley sat there, staring at the file and feeling the last bit of hope he had slowly fade into dust like everyone else. He dropped the file on the table and leaned back on the chair. He brought his hands to his face. The demon tried very hard not to cry even as sobs wracked through his body. The familiar overwhelming misery began to curl around his heart again and crush it to death. Crowley felt like he was drowning. Drowning with nothing to pull him up above the waters of despair.

He can’t. He just can’t take this anymore.

Half of Earth is gone, including his beloved angel. What is left for him now? What is there left for him to live for? The demon’s train of thought was halted as he jumped in his seat when something crashed outside. There was a muffled shout of “Don’t tell me how to do my bloody job!” then muffled conversations and finally, silence as it seemed whatever conflict happened outside was resolved. Crowley sniffed as he glanced at the stack of papers he hasn’t sorted yet. He clenched his fists and took in a few shaky breaths to calm down. _’No...it’s not over yet. Adam may be gone but it’s not over yet. Come on Crowley! There has to be something here…’_ he took another file from the stack.

When he opened it, he simply hummed in thought when he saw who it was. It was Wanda Maximoff, also known as the Scarlet Witch, a member of the Avengers. “Avengers…” he muttered before grabbing the next file which happened to be James Buchanan Barnes, then Nicholas Fury, then Stephen Strange. Crowley stopped there as the gears in his mind began to work on a thought. As if a light bulb flickered on above his head, the demon’s eyes widened as he came to an idea. It may sound a little far-fetched but by now, he was willing to grab onto whatever scraps of clues may help him no matter how improbable it seems. “If Heaven and Hell have no clue as to what happened...then these Avengers might!” his snake eyes were aglow with renewed hope and a wide smile crept to his face.

It's as he mentioned to his angel days ago, moments before he disappeared. These humans are advancing so much, it’s getting harder to tell what they would do next, what consequences will come, or what events of cosmic proportions they would involve themselves with. He stood up from his chair and disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So finally! In the next chapter Crowley is gonna meet the Avengers (what’s left of them anyway)


End file.
